


CS Drabbles

by WittyWallflower



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>various Captain Swan dealies and thingamabobs. sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Emma and Killian go to a farmers' market.

The small park was filled with a low hum of chatter. The main pathway was lined with tables and tents filled with locally grow produce and cottage handcrafts for sale. Farmers’ markets had never really been Emma’s scene, but she knew the open-air market market full of wholesome products and bartering merchants was more appealing to Storybrooke’s residents than a big box store.

 

Killian in particular seemed in his element, swaggering about confidently with a clear purpose in mind. She had to bite her lip not to smile at his attitude towards what basically amounted to grocery shopping.

But she was surprised by the selection the small town had. She couldn’t imagine finding time between magical monsters and mystical curses to actually plant and tend a garden. But judging by the surplus for sale in the stalls around her, a lot of the town’s residents has held on to their simpler roots from the Enchanted Forest. While they may enjoy electric lights and penicillin, they still preferred homegrown veggies to Hamburger Helper.

The morning was bright, the slight chill of the breeze chased away by the sun’s warmth. The sky was that eye-watering intense autumnal blue, a shade seen only when the leaves are turning. Emma and Killian strolled past a booth of Storybrooke’s nuns selling pies and dainties. They paused for a moment at the table Marco had filled with woodcarvings and watched him whittle out another toy soldier.

Acerbic chatter drew her towards a table covered with small trays of brightly colored fruit. Granny was arguing with the vendor over the apples he had for sale. They looked appetizing enough to Emma so she drifted closer to eavesdrop.

"None of these are the right type! How is my pie supposed to compete with those nuns’ without good baking apples?" Granny huffed, dismissing the four different varieties in front of her.

"What I got is what I grew. You’re welcome to look elsewhere for your apples if these aren’t good enough. I hear the mayor has a very fruitful tree in her front yard." Anton responded.

His face was bland as he made the suggestion but Granny’s face turned red with impotent anger. She grudgingly filled her basket with the produce she had just derided and stalked off with a scowl. Emma and Killian stepped up to the table as she left.

"Hi, Anton. How’d you get oranges to grow in Maine?" Emma asked, pointing to the fruit as the man greeted her with a smile.

"The glass houses in this land are like magic! Its always summer inside so i can grow anything no matter the season. If there’s anything special you like you just let me know and I can grow it. The dwarves put in a request for blueberries." He grinned with shy pride.

Grumpy and the other dwarves had taken Anton under their wing. In social situations one or more was rarely far from his company and every day he was glad he had found his way to this town.

"Let Granny in on some of that action and she’ll make us all her famous pancakes." Emma suggested.

Oranges were on her shopping list as it happened so she reached for a tray as she pulled out her wallet.

"Nay, love." Killian’s hand stayed hers before she made her selection. "Those are too ripe."

"Too ripe?" Anton said with a slight huff. "Ripe is what you want. Fresh off the vine and ready to eat."

"Aye," Killian nodded respectfully enough, but his smile was arch. "But as it happens we are not in the immediate moment ready to eat them."

Turning back to Emma his smile softened. His hand skimmed over the table, pausing here and there to select an orange, bouncing it in his palm a moment before replacing it. The rings on his fingers flashed in the morning sunlight as he settled on a tray near the middle. The fruit were slightly smaller so Emma had passed them over. She regarded his choice dubiously.

"If we choose these, love, they’ll continue to ripen and in about" here he paused to bring an orange to his face and inhale its aroma "I reckon three days you’ll have as perfect an orange as ever you’ve sampled." 

He took her hand and plopped the orange into it.

"Feel the weight? It’s smaller than the others yet weighs about the same. A sure sign that it will be juicy and succulent." He lingered over the last word, making it almost sensuous. His tongue darted over his lips and derailed her previous train of thought.

Killian tipped the orange into the basket on her arm. The old fashioned market basket that made her feel a little too much like Judy Garland. She half expected Toto to pop out of it any second. Mary Margaret had pressed it on her as soon as her mother had heard of the shopping trip. It was hardly the only one in the market though. Apparently Storybrooke had never heard of tote bags

"3 days, is it?" she asked as she paid Anton. She kept her tone steady but was smiling at the seriousness Killian had put into the selection.

"Aye." Not that Killian noticed her smirk as he transferred the other oranges one by one into the basket with his good hand. 

"And if I want one before then?" she teased.

"Well then," he slipped the last in and then met her eyes. His were sparkling and his rakish grin made her pulse flutter. "They’ll be a bit tart is all. Nothing you can’t handle, Swan." 

.x.

They meandered around the market, stopping at the stalls of friends. Occasionally Henry would dart from between the booths and draw Emma over to see something he had found remarkable. But Killian noticed as the boy was growing older, he sought more adventures on his own. He’d spent little enough time with the boy before the curse but the image he gleaned from Emma and Regina was decidedly at odds with the Henry before him now. He even spied the lad chatting with a comely little lass with long hair. Emma asked why Killian was smiling but he diverted her attention by taking the now heavily laden basket from her hands. 

She’d never complain, he knew, or set it down for a moment. But the more produce they bought, the more the basket handles dug into his Swan’s graceful hands. Luckily, he could remove that burden from her without suffering it himself. He slipped his hook under the handle and lifted the basket away from her. She made a grab for it but he swung it out of reach behind him. Emma scowled as she craned past him, trying to catch hold of it. He took advantage of her nearness to slip his arm around her waist.

She gave him what he thought of as her tolerant smile. He had a saucy comment ready on his lips, and what he considered to be an extremely clever quip about a banana ready should he need to make her laugh. But when he’d drawn her against him, they had stepped from the shade beneath an awning into the sun. Her hair lit up in a blaze of gold, shining in the light and making her look like some otherwordly being, too ethereal to exist in the realms of men. 

He knew her well, knew her flaws. He’d even suffered at her hands. She was no angel. But somehow suddenly he seemed damnably unable to catch his breath and his hold on her might be the only thing that kept him balanced. His breath must have caught because her brow knit slightly.

"What?" she asked.

There was much he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful and bold and fierce she was, how she brought light and hope back into a lost existence, how he’d fight and die to give her a happy ending. But he bit his tongue, ever wary of those walls of hers. She had a nasty habit of retreating behind them when life got too emotional.

He could make a clever remark, or flirt shamelessly, or say outrageous things until she became exasperated and stopped taking him seriously. Distract her with his devilish charm and undeniable handsomeness until she forgot she had asked. But were those tactics not their own sort of walls?

"I’m glad you decided to stay in Storybrooke." he said simply.

His smile was casual but the sincerity in his eyes was echoed in his words. Emma tilted her head as she looked at him. What he said was the truth, but her superpower told her there was something more to it than that. But before she could figure out how to read his words, they were joined by her son.

Killian smoothly released her and stepped back as Henry ran up to them. Henry gave the boy a nod and a smile before turning away to give them a chance to talk. It also seemed wise to give Emma space so he drifted away from the small family.

"Hey kid," Emma greeted Henry. "Whatcha got there?"

Henry raised the cellophane bag he clutched to show her. Not that it helped her to identify the contents: misshapen cubes, their sandy tan color not particularly appealing. She raised an eyebrow in query.

"Homemade marshmallows. Cinnamon flavored!"

.x.

Killian hefted the coconut, giving it a bit of a toss to feel its weight. Sitting in his hand, it brought back memories of their time in Neverland. He remembered stabbing a hole in a coconut and handing it to her. Quite casually. He’d paused for half a heartbeat as he did, realizing how natural and easy it had become to see to her comfort. Her safety. Her happiness. It had quickly became an instinct, one he couldn’t counter even when his own well-being on the line. That drive had only intensified since their days in Neverland.

He swallowed, subduing the emotions within him. It had been a vast and rough sea between where he was now, and that darkest day on faraway shores when he had lost his Milah. That day when had set his course and vowed to know no other joy than vengeance. Until he found her. His Swan. His hope. 

Emma finished her conversation with Henry, ruffling his hair before he ran off again, and went in search of Hook. For a moment he didn’t notice she had joined him and she had time to study his face. His blue eyes were lost in the distance, far away with his thoughts.

Emma plucked the coconut from his grasp, tossing it from hand to hand and offering him a gamine smile once she had his attention.

"Must be more of Anton’s work. Coconut palms aren’t native flora around here either." She said.

His lips quirked briefly in response and he tried to shake off the fog his thoughts had been. Emma extended the coconut to him and when he met her eyes, somehow he could tell the memory was in her thoughts as well, knew that time meant something to her too. Knew she was affected as much as himself by what they had shared in Neverland, the things they had experienced together both dangers and dalliances. Now, worlds away without the threat to her son overshadowing her every step, she could react to him. As a man, and as a suitor.

"Shall we?" she waggled the coconut at him encouragingly. "For… ‘old’ times sake?" 

He smiled more easily. Wrapping his large hand around her own, he steadied the coconut, both of them holding it firm while he punctured it with his hook. He’d thought about abandoning the hook now he’d made his life in Storybrook. It would certainly help his efforts to be seen as more than simply a pirate. Several townspeople had started to address him by his given name and he found he preferred it now to the Hook moniker. It’s not as if he hadn’t worn a stuffed glove or false hand when appropriate before. 

At the moment though he was glad he hadn’t. Emma lifted the coconut to her lips for a swig and Killian’s eyes zeroed in on a droplet that escaped. It clung precariously to her lower lip for a breath and his own tongue trailed over his lip as he resisted the urge to swoop in and kiss it away. Before he could give in to the temptation, the drop slid down her chin. She swiped it away with the back of her hand as she offered the coconut to him.

He lifted it, in toast to her if he was honest, her magnificence. Her spirit and perseverance. Her strength and her damned stubbornness and reckless courage and everything about Emma Swan that had made Captain Hook want to be Killian Jones again.

"Old times." was all he said before he drank.

He licked the coconut water from his lips with a satisfied smack and was rewarded with an amused smile from Emma. She tucked her arm through his and they resumed their stroll, passing first the coconut between them then later his flask of rum. For a proper toast to old times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milah's portrait brings back memories for Killian

She had insisted they move his belonging in. Once a dread pirate with holds crammed full of the bounty seized by the Jolly Roger, he had little to call his own anymore. But in truth, he needed nothing. This new world with its strange ways and magic machines provided for his needs. A warm coat against the winter, his hook, and maybe a flask of rum. A clever man needed little by way of material goods.

But his Swan had insisted. He spent hours every day by her side and most of the nights, but there was a special meaning apparently to his belongings being in her home. “More official” she had said as they loaded her yellow land vessel with things he couldn't see ever using again. Clothes that would only bring her teasing down upon him, tools that had no use outside of a sailing vessel. In truth, he could have carried it all in his satchel but to please her he had managed to fill two of the boxes she had brought.

Those boxes sat now upon the dining table, waiting to be unpacked. Killian would have placed them in the nearest closet and immediately forgotten about them if not for Emma's continued insistence that he have his things about him. He had glowered at that for a moment. After all, the same closet held boxes of her own belongings, boxes that had been moved and opened only once since her arrival in Storybrooke. But he remembered the pain her buried treasures had caused her the one time she'd allowed him to examine them. Little wonder she placed such an emphasis on nostalgic goods.

He’s flipped open the lid Emma went to grab them both a beer. Laying the items out on the table, his hand stilled when he grasped a piece of paper. Lifting it to the winter light straggling in the windows, he examined the portrait drawn upon it.

Milah. 

In all the excitement of the past few years, he’d almost forgotten the portrait’s existence. Once it had been displayed in his cabin where he couldn't fail to see her every morning when he arose and every night as he waited for sleep or the drink to claim his consciousness. A constant reminder reaffirming his desire for vengeance every day. But it had been shoved behind the detritus of a dozen adventures across three different realms, tucked back into the far corner of the desk in his cabin, behind boxes and tins and empty rum bottles.

The thought saddened him. As if Milah herself had been set aside, forgotten about. Once upon a time his only purpose for being, for drawing another breath, for rising from his bed in the morning, had been her. While she lived he existed to love her. When she died, revenge seemed the only peace for her, the last thing Killian could ever give his love. Nothing had been more important to him. But that time had passed.

His brows drew together as he awaited the familiar pang of pain that her visage had always given him. That stab to the heart, so like what Milah must have felt when the Dark One’s fingers had closed around the source of her love for Killian and crushed it to oblivion. He almost staggered when he realized it didn't come, didn’t steal his breath and wring anguished curses from his lips. The years had blunted the pain.

The dull ache deep within him was almost worse than forgetting her. Such a common feeling, as if she had meant but little to him. He didn’t wish for a return of the heart-rending pain, not truly, but for a moment his hand shook as he tried to summon up the memory of it. Focusing on her face, he tried to recall the fire that burned within him.

Emma had approached unnoticed behind him. A glance over his shoulder and she saw what had distracted him. 

"Tell me about her." she said, setting the beers down and perching on the table to face him.

Hook squirmed, scratching below his ear. He set the picture down and reached into the box once more, trying to avoid her eyes.

"It’s ancient history, Swan, best left behind and forgotten. I thought we agree we were done living in the past?"

"Yeah." She nodded. He was right about that. Besides, it was pretty awkward to discuss a past love with a current one. 

But she looked thoughtful, and he couldn’t deny her such a simple request. She who had opened herself to him, let down her walls, let him see the glimpses of her troubled past. They had been through too much to have barriers between them any longer.

"She had such a lust for adventure. Always seeking that horizon, Milah. There was never a better pirate lass." Killian smiled at the memory. "She could climb the rigging and reef the sails and shoot a straight as well as any man and was the best navigator aboard. She was perfect suited to me, a dashing young rogue bent on bringing terror to the known seas. Such courage and strength she had. I thought nothing could defeat us while we sailed together.

When she was taken from me,” he swallowed and ran a tongue over his lips before he went on. “I was lost to reason, maddened by grief and the pain of losing my hand, drowning everything else in rum. Revenge was the only course left to me, i had nothing else to hold on to without Milah. I swore to slay the one killed her and i thought of nothing else, pursued nothing else, believed in nothing else. Until i met you.”

His eyes met hers and she noticed a change to his face, a lightness about his features that had been so overshadowed by emotion moments before. More open he looked, more engaging. Less with the brooding looks and lowered brows and bedroom eyes trying to flirt his way past defenses while revealing nothing of his true self. 

"The Savior," he murmured.

She shifted slightly in her seat in response to that, he noticed. although she had accepted the role she wasn’t comfortable in it. 

"The proof that good can triumph," he continued. "That True Love exists and can have a happy ending. You brought me back to the man I stopped being long before I lost Milah, the man i was before I lost Liam. It sounds bloody ridiculous to say it but… you gave me hope, Swan."

And anything is possible if one has hope.


End file.
